Catch Me if You Can
by SupremeMotherHen
Summary: Joan runs as fast as she can.


Joan's heart beat faster than the rhythm of her heels clicking, aggressively, on the pavement. She weaved in and around the groups of people crowding around the stalls at the farmer's market. The pounding in her ears drowned the chatter from the crowd loitering around, arguing over the prices of various fruits. Her too tight dress, far from sensible heels and the briefcase, she managed to grab during her hasty exit, refused to make this an easy task. Her breathing was labored, even though the distance she had ran was far shorter than her usual morning laps. She would have been embarrassed if she wasn't scared out of her mind.

Part of her wanted to turn around to see if anyone was following and how close they were. Another part of her wanted follow in the direction that Sherlock had gone when he decided splitting up was a better option than sticking together. They'd meet up an a safe house that he had purchased after their misadventures with Mycroft. He made her promise that she would not allow herself to be caught and he did the same. They could not, realistically, guarantee that promise but the sentiment was not lost on either of them. They were running for their lives and wanted the other to be safe. It gave an incentive; Sherlock would stay alive for Joan and she would do the same for him. All they had to do was make it to that house.

Joan had almost made her way through the crowd when she spotted that blonde head that she would recognize anywhere. Moriarty had followed her. Joan assumed that the woman would send a henchman after her instead of following herself. Honestly, Joan would rather a henchman than to have Moriarty hunting her, on foot. This was about as dangerous a game as anyone could play. At least she would have a better chance at an escape if it was one of Moriarty's many minions. _At least she was not following Sherlock. At least he had a chance_, she thought.

Moriarty was positioned at the exact spot that Joan needed to pass in order to exit the market. She was faced in the opposite direction, scanning the crowd, so Joan had a few seconds to think of an escape plan before she was inevitably spotted. The windows were far too high to climb out of and the other exits would put her too far from her goal. Surely there were other henchmen waiting outside of the market for her. Though she was a lone wolf, Moriarty rarely hunted alone. She utilized every weapon in her arsenal when she had to and Joan suspected that this was one of those moments.

Joan almost decided to head back to one of the other exits after all, when a group of sweaty and large fish mongers made a beeline for the exit Moriarty was perched in. Joan quickly hid herself behind their group and ducked down as they made their way to the exit. Moriarty smiled that charming smile when the leader of the group asked to get by. She moved to the side but continued her survey of the market. Joan crouched down even more, making herself as small as possible and moved with the group. The men shot weary faces at her but chose not to speak on her behavior. She did not look to be a threat and they really did have places to be so they kept moving.

"Joan Watson, leaving so soon?"

Joan spun around at the voice. Her breath had somewhat evened since she had stopped running but she could not find her voice. Her heart began hammering in her chest once again. Her eyes locked with Moriarty's and she tightened her fist around the briefcase handle. Moriarty had a lazy smile but Joan saw the quiet rage in her eyes. There were too many witnesses for an aggressive ambush which made Joan feel a bit better. Not much though. She began taking small step backwards, through the, now empty, exit. The fish mongers were long gone, completing what ever task they had when Joan tried to use them as a shield. She felt like cornered prey. And honestly, she was cornered prey at this point.

Joan was moving before she could even think about it. She kicked her heels towards Moriarty, missing her face by a fraction both times, and took off as fast as she could. She chose not to think of all the germs and hazards that running around New York, barefoot, would bring. The only thing on her mind was to get far enough ahead that she could get away unseen. Her feet slapped against the pavement as she sped fully out of the market and towards the subway. She had no plans to get on but she knew that she could lose Moriarty in the tunnels, since the woman has been met with confusion every time they traveled on the subway together. It would at least buy her enough time to make it to the safe house without having to worry about being trailed.

Much to Joan's chagrin, Moriarty was able to keep up a respectable pace. She was far from catching up but close enough to stay within eye sight. Whether it was adrenaline or the small jab Joan had made about her stamina two months prior that spurred this newly athletic woman, Joan had no idea but this was quickly putting a damper on the plan that she managed put together.

"Fuck" Joan mumbled under her breath.

Her day had quickly taken a turn for the worst. Sherlock had taken her to a very expensive restaurant, of Joan's choice, for brunch, to apologize for burning her eyebrows off, a month prior with one of his experiments. They were supposed to eat a lovely lunch, catch the Mets game and retire to their rooms early since they wrapped up their last four cases rather quickly. This day was supposed to be quiet and relaxing but now, Joan found herself running barefoot, on a dirty New York street, from a madwoman. Not just any madwoman, but one that Joan had slept with on several occasions, against every voice in her head that screamed for her to stop.

It started simply enough, Moriarty invited herself to their table, because of course she would know exactly where they were going to be. She was wearing her usual designer dress, with her hair pulled up into a stylish, purposely messy bun. Today, she opted for a pair of flats instead of her usual heels. Joan thought she detected the hint of a limp but it was gone before she could really analyze it. She threw some poorly veiled insults at Sherlock, suggestive comments at Joan and picked food off of both of their plates. The usual. Neither of them was sure why she was there this time and they actually had no desire to ask. They had grown tired of her popping up randomly to annoy them. The visits had become more frequent when Joan stopped sleeping with her.

"I think you broke her heart."

Sherlock had mentioned. They stared each other down for a second before bursting into laughter. They had been sharing many laughs at Moriarty's expense and it surprisingly strengthened their bond. The enemy of their enemy, that also happened to be their friend apparently became a closer friend. It had been tense for a while, when Joan had been finding herself in Moriarty's bed, but now, they were getting over her together. That clearly had not set well. Moriarty did not react well to losing her playthings, which meant that she popped up frequently to reassert her dominance. They feared that she would harm them at first, but now it was just annoying.

Usually ones to wait it out, Sherlock and Joan had grown tired of her presence. They shared a quiet look across the table. Sherlock tossed a few bills on the table and the two bolted from the restaurant. It was supposed to be a simple escape mission but Joan picked up the gray briefcase that Moriarty had set on the floor, next to her feet, in her exit. She had no clue what was in it, but it seemed like a good idea in the moment. Sherlock had no idea until they met at the entrance where he promised to meet her at their safe house. He silently berated her, knowing that they would definitely be chased since they had a piece of Moriarty's property. But true to his nature, Sherlock was more curious about the briefcase's contents than anything. They separated at the end of the block, Sherlock yelling promises to stay alive and to pick up supplies to open the case's lock.

Against better judgment, Joan glanced behind her, to see how much of a lead she still had. Fortunately, Moriarty's stamina hadn't improved enough for her to keep up. She had just about sweat through her shirt, sweat trickled down her face, that limp that Joan spotted earlier was back and she was panting like a dog. Joan could see the trembling in her legs that meant could only go for a little while longer. Joan thanked every God that may or may not exist and the person that encouraged her to run in med school, to relax her nerves during midterms.

Joan ditch her plan to head to the subway and decided to head to the park. Aside from dog crap, it was the cleanest place she could think of running to. She picked up speed, hitched her dress even further up her legs and set an accelerated pace for herself. She was just going to run a mile or two and once Moriarty inevitably collapsed, she'd head to the safe house.

After another mile, Joan had completely lost Moriarty. She peeked back to see the woman kneeling on a park bench, sweat drenched and hair remove from its previous bun. She was clutching massaging her left calf gulping air like it was going out of style. Joan smiled at her victory and sped to the safe house. Her own breathe was labored once again and there was a ringing in her ears but she pressed on. They had clearly caught the woman off guard with their hasty exit and the foot chase. Hopefully Sherlock made it there safely.

Joan sprinted up the crumbling cement steps, pulled the spare key from under a loose brick in the wall and let herself in to the safe house.

"Watson!"

Sherlock came from the kitchen, worry etched on his face. There was an oven mitt on his left hand and an apron around his waist. It was the pink, frilly one that she had bought for him on his birthday, as a gag gift. She smelled something sweet in the air. He was baking sweets. He did this when he was worried. How long had he even been there?

"Well, it took you long enough." He mumbled. "I almost called your mother to send my condolences.

"I'm happy you made it here safely, too."

"You've seemed to have lost your shoes." He stated.

"I noticed."

Joan tried not to smile at him. She enjoyed little moments when he clearly cared about her well being. She tried not to mock him for it.

"We'll open the case after I take the cupcakes out. I don't want them to burn."

"Yes, after the cupcakes."

Sherlock retreated back to the kitchen to get the cupcakes that were on the top rack, in the oven. He placed them on a cooling rack and went to get his lock picking set from his supply kit

Joan placed the case on the kitchen table and moved to get a bottle of water from the fridge.

Time to see what Moriarty was up to.


End file.
